


Null and Void

by Loremaiden



Category: Hidden Block (Video Blogging RPF), Normal Boots - Fandom, Televoid - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Gen, Televoid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 22:37:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10908867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loremaiden/pseuds/Loremaiden
Summary: Ian's control is slipping.





	Null and Void

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place some time after [A Message To No One](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JmMSzXcM9kA).

A hissing roar of static jerked Ian awake.

He groaned, reluctantly lifted his head off his balled-up purple hoodie that doubled as his pillow, and rolled out of his awkward fetal position on the floor. Like a cranky zombie, Ian stumbled towards the TV, tiredly trying to shut it off like someone flailing at their buzzing alarm clock’s snooze button. At last, his brain woke up enough to remember how dials worked, and the room was silent again. That was weird; he could have sworn he had shut off the TV before he went to sleep.

Ian fought the urge to lie back down and decided to get started with his morning. He, of course, had no idea if it was actually morning or not; his sense of time had been the first thing to go since he arrived here. But he knew he needed to stay mentally grounded with some semblance of a routine, or his sanity would be the next thing taken by the Void.

The Void. That was what he called his new home and his benefactor, his prison and his warden all in one. The name certainly fit. Beyond his little island of activity that was the television, chair, printer, plant, and exercise bike was pure black nothingness. The room felt both cramped and infinite, much too big yet much too small to hold one person…

_Focus, Ian. Focus. Keep the routine. Time for breakfast._

He choked down the piece of stale Sara Lee banana cake that had been left for him. It definitely didn’t taste smooth, satisfying, delicious, succulent, or fresh. He regretted plowing through that bowl of plain popcorn instead of rationing it like he should have. At least the Void hadn’t tried to feed him SeaNip cat food. Yet.

Next up was physical exercise, which consisted of simple stretches and running in place. He used to enjoy the stationary bike, but now he gave it a wide berth; it reminded Ian too much of a hamster wheel.

And finally, mental exercises. He thought up anagrams of the TV’s Montgomery Ward logo. He counted the plant leaves. He re-read the few emails he had received. But mostly, he dedicated his mind to trying to figure out how to escape. Ian wished he could write down notes and ideas, but he didn’t dare. The Void made it very clear it didn’t like any signs of discontentment, and he had no desire to heave up what little food he had like last time.

But there were only so many activities that Ian could do before he inevitably gravitated back to the TV.

With a heavy heart, he slumped into the chair and turned on the television set, only to be greeted with that hissing static roar. Channels 1 through 13 and back again--static, static, static. Ian sometimes felt that the static was drilling into his brain, and eventually that would be all he would hear or see--

He fiercely rubbed his red-rimmed eyes, wiping away the sudden sting of tears. It had been so long since he felt that sensation of loneliness melt away, or heard the printer produce another email, and he didn’t understand. What did the Void _want_ from him? Why force him to be a host of a program no one watched? What was the point of a show without an audience?

Then he suddenly felt the familiar weight of eyes watching him, and he almost sobbed with relief. They came back. He swallowed thickly around the growing lump in his throat as he tried to regain control of himself. “H--hey everyone, welcome back! I’m...I’m so glad you’re here to watch another show with me.”

He turned to channel 3, and at last, the white noise was gone. There were actual images again, of a show that looked fairly recent…? Then a sharp stab of static blasted his ears as the Void force-fed him the information he needed to start his review. He winced at the sudden flip of his stomach, but pressed onward.

“Today’s show is the pilot episode of Game Shakers, a sitcom on Nickelodeon. It’s about two seventh graders named Babe and Kenzie, who create a Flappy Bird knockoff called “Sky Whale” for their science project, and it’s a surprise multimillion dollar hit that takes the gaming industry by storm. Take this reviewer for ex--”

Ian’s train of conversation skidded to a screeching halt. The television was currently showing a clip of a thin man in a blue button-down shirt talking about how he was so addicted to the app that he brought his tablet in the shower with him.

He knew this man.

Where had he seen him before? He hadn’t been on any of the other programs. But he looked so familiar. His heart was beginning to race, and he didn’t know why drawing a blank on the name was making him so anxious.

“Do…” Ian wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself, the audience, or the Void, but he didn’t care; he needed to know. “Do you know this guy? Like, has he been in any other stuff? I think his name is…oh man, it’s right on the tip of my tongue, I _hate_ that--”

Another quick burst of static rang in his head, but instead of transmitting the piece of information he requested, it seemed to block him from remembering. “Is it...is it Joel? Maybe Jimmy?”

Yet another stab of static pierced the air, lasting a bit longer this time, and he irritably plugged his fingers into his ears. He raised his voice above the din and stared hard at the screen. “Or...Jared? He kind of looks like a Jared…”

Still another burst of disorienting static destroyed Ian’s concentration, right when he felt like he almost had it. He _knew_ he knew him, he needed to remember, _why couldn’t he fucking remember?_

The static rattled his brain without mercy, louder than it had ever been, making his heart feel like it was going to pound right out of his chest from anger and fear. It wasn’t enough that the Void had his body, now it wanted his mind and memories as well.

And that’s when Ian snapped.

With a scream of pure unbridled rage, he shoved the television right off the stand and it crashed to the floor. He grabbed the small wooden stand for a weapon and smashed the screen to pieces. Electricity sparked from the back of the set and Ian could smell the ozone in the air, but he was too far gone to worry about electrocuting himself. All that mattered to him was smashing the TV to oblivion, bashing it over and over, his shrieks and sobs taking the place of the omnipresent white noise, his stomach turning inside out, the room spinning--

Finally his weakened and exhausted body couldn’t take the strain any more. Ian’s bloodshot eyes rolled up into the back of his skull, and he collapsed onto the floor.

A hissing roar of static jerked Ian awake.

He groaned, rolled out of his awkward fetal position on the floor, and groaned again. Every muscle ached and burned; his arms especially felt like lead. But eventually he managed to get up and turn the dial to the off position, and the room was silent again. That was weird; he could have sworn he had shut off the TV before he went to sleep.

Ian knew he should get started with his morning, keep himself grounded with the routine he set for himself, but he felt completely drained, as if he had run a marathon. The floor, though uncomfortable, was beckoning him to rest, and he had no energy or drive to resist it. He made a mental note to start his routine when he woke up again. If he felt like it.

Ian balled up his hoodie for his pillow, curled back up into a ball, and let sleep claim him.

**Author's Note:**

> [Game Shakers](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Game_Shakers) is an actual Nickelodeon show, and [ProJared](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHkVrpvuriQ) was actually in the pilot.


End file.
